Read Online Reckless by Anne Stuart - Free Book Online

retiring.
    There was silence for a moment. The tall windows were open to the cool night air, and in the distance Lina could hear music floating over the water,accompanied by the sound of laughter. And because no one would notice, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least tonight she could be at peace.
    â€œYou’re terrible to poor Dodson,” she said.
    Monty sighed. “Yes, I am, aren’t I? It never seems to bother him.” He paused, his long thin fingers plucking at the quilt covering his frail body. “You’ll see to him, won’t you, Lina? I’ve made what arrangements I could, but I worry about the old thing.”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous,” she chided him. “Dodson’s twice your age—you’ll outlive him by decades and then you’re the one in trouble. You’ll never find anyone willing to put up with you the way that brave soul does.”
    Monty smiled faintly, but didn’t bother to argue with her. Instead, he turned his head to looked toward the abbey ruins. The moon was bright overhead, the two spires of the ruined abbey stood stark against the night sky. “It’s a beautiful night, Lina,” he said. “You know, I hate to admit it, but I’d rather be here with you than romping between the sheets with some lovely young thing. So would you.”
    She didn’t bother denying it—he knew her too well. Though there were times when she wondered how many others saw through her fevered gaiety. Charlotte, for certain. There were doubtless others.
    â€œThere will be other nights to romp, Monty,” she said, touching his thin hands.
    Monty turned his hand over and clasped hers with weak affection. “More’s the pity, love,” he murmured.

5
    T he moon had come out. In the distance Charlotte could hear the strains of music. There had been a small orchestra set up near the dais, and the music, simple and slightly sinuous, snaked its way into her consciousness. She could see Rohan a bit too clearly from beneath her enveloping cowl, and she swallowed nervously, unconsciously flexing her bare toes in the grass as she walked.
    He held her hand. It was unnerving—she couldn’t remember ever having held a man’s hand outside of dancing. When she was young, her father had certainly never bothered with her enough to hold her hand, and all the servants who’d looked after her were female. Being a short-sighted, overgrown, ginger-haired and befreckled creature, she had obviously never excited the interest of a gentleman enough for him to take her hand.
    In fact, disposing of Rohan’s company would bequite simple. All she had to do was drop the cowl to her shoulders and let him see just who he’d managed to capture. He’d drop her hand as if burned.
    That was only as a last resort. His grasp was light, casual. She didn’t doubt his fingers could tighten very swiftly, but the longer she allowed her hand to remain in his the more his guard would likely drop.
    He wore no gloves. Neither did she. Another shocking circumstance—she’d barely touched anyone without layers of kid leather between them, back when she’d attempted to dance. She’d never been fond of gloves, except for riding or gardening. They made her palms itch.
    But she could suddenly see the wisdom of them for social occasions. There was something so…intimate about skin on skin, flesh on flesh. His fingers, warm and strong, wrapped around her unresisting ones.
    She allowed herself a furtive glance up at him from beneath her enveloping hood. She could see the ruined spires of the abbey behind him, and for a moment they looked oddly like devil’s horns. She blinked, then wanted to laugh. She was being ridiculously fanciful. Adrian Rohan was nothing but a man. A spoiled, wicked, far too pretty man, but human. By coming here she hadn’t somehow managed to sell her soul to the devil.
    Should she dare attempt to speak?